Hungry Games
by I'm Really Hardcore
Summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar dungeon. Doom awaits.


You wake up in the stale-smelling dungeon of something from the kind of role playing games the nerds from high school played. Covered in a cold sweat, you stand up and shiver. What kind of sick, vile creature could possibly be behind what lies in store for you? You shudder.  
Suddenly, a pair of gleaming evil eyes stares you down. They beckon you. It's time.  
As you join your friends, the strangest combination of relief and horror washes over you; you're glad to see them, and yet sickened by the thought that they will ultimately meet the same unknown fate in store for you.  
You're prodded onto what looks like a platform, hovering up over an empty floor. Are you going to be dropped? That doesn't sound like the worst thing that could happen. Perhaps some sort of apparatus will lower from the ceiling, from which you'd be hung by your ankles and given some horrible, unspeakable torture.  
But it's nothing like that.  
It's worse.  
It's worse than anything you could have imagined.

The eyes that stared you down earlier are now attached to a horrible beast out of your worst, fever driven nightmares. A black, metallic beast, almost comically spherical, with hinged jaws harboring sharp, symmetrical triangular teeth that look like they would not only put Jaws to shame, but gobble him up like an antelope to a pride of lions.  
The monster stops near a cage on the opposite side of the room and growls hungrily. It seems pretty obvious what lies in store for you.

But it gets worse.

The empty floor opens up to reveal… A colorful wheel? Like the sort from your playground days that you'd hop on with another kid and spin and spin until you were too dizzy to continue, wobbling off and giggling as you tried to walk.  
Sick bastard.  
He's turning this into a game.

The wheel was divided into five different colors, separated by bars.  
"Pick one." The guard grunts behind you as the wheel slowly turns. You suppose you have to get on, so you step on the blue space. Not that it matters.  
The wheel continues to turn at its sluggish pace, allowing your cohorts to board the wheel as well, leaving one space free.  
Suddenly, the wheel jerks violently, moving faster than any roller coaster you've ever ridden. The wheel lowers down to ground level, keeping the frightening pace, jerking you around so hard that you can't imagine surviving this sick little game, let alone whatever the beast has in store for you.  
The wheel slows to the original speed. You feel nauseous, both from staring the beast dead in the eyes for a brief moment, and from the trip you just took. The wheel gets slower. Slower still. Until it stops.

Your heart drops in your chest.  
The wheel has stopped on your brother.

As the machine monster grabs your sibling in his jaws, you hear the most horrifying, helpless noise that has ever exited your brothers body, followed by a sickening crunch of bone and the wet tear of tissue.

Now, in truth, your brother was never the bravest of souls. He jumped at the sight of his own reflection in the mirror if he was alone long enough. But you can't imagine that mattered. Even the bravest of men would act as he did in his place. You remove your hat and shed a single tear in his memory. A moment later, you are ordered to return to the platform and start again.

The wheel lowers into the floor and comes back up, only this time revealing a wheel with four colors on it.

You continue in the same fashion. Again, you pick the blue space.

It's not like it matters.

The spaces are filled. You feel the jerking of the wheel. You close your eyes and enter your happy place:

You find yourself on a beach. Nothing for miles.  
Perfect.

You pick up a shell and turn it over in your hand. You chuck it and it makes a strange noise.  
All is how it should be.

Suddenly, and without warning, you are jolted back to reality, face to face with your old rival.

The term 'rival' is used loosely here, of course. You were always friends, but you always competed against each other more fiercely than the rest.  
In even the sickest, horrible daydream after defeat, you never would have wished death this horrible on him.

You look away in terror at the sound of wet, stomach churning crunches.

You slowly open your eyes.  
You look around

You are the last one standing.

The horrible monster returns to the dark recesses of the dungeon.

You fall to your knees and weep.

You did it.  
You won.

Mario is the winner.


End file.
